


For Gold or Money

by arkadianmouse



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Space, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-07-17
Packaged: 2018-07-24 10:43:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7505155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arkadianmouse/pseuds/arkadianmouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lance rose silently. “I’ll go.” </p><p>When a mysterious prince calls on his family for a companion, Lance offers to take his sister's place. He doesn't realize the castle is home to a beastly prince with a dark secret. As he grows closer to the prince, he also betrays his trust, and is soon thrust into an intergalactic struggle to win back the love of his life.</p><p>Based on the fairy tale "East of the Sun, West of the Moon" and still set in space.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> So this is... a space fairy tale AU of sorts? I really love "East of the Sun, West of the Moon" so it draws heavily from that, but there are also obvious elements of Beauty and the Beast because the story is so similar. 
> 
> Keith is depicted as Galran in this, but as the story will reveal, he is ultimately human and cursed to resemble a Galran. I understand that Galran!Keith might become canon but I personally am not a fan of it! Yet for this story it works well so read between the lines as you'd like. 
> 
> Part Two will be up very soon.

Lance was watching his gorgeous little sister toddle around on her unsteady legs when his father rushed through the garden and into the house, slamming the door soundly behind him. Maria jumped at the sound and wobbled her lip as though about to cry, but with a swift peck to the forehead Lance quieted her.

“I’ll be right back, sweetheart,” he said, gesturing for Ana, just coming up on eleven years old, to watch Maria. Her toothy smile of agreement warmed his heart even as a tight edge of worry gnawed at him.

He pushed the heavy oak door inwards and was immediately met with a worrying sight: his father, bent over the table, arms shaking to support his weight. His mother’s face had gone pale and his eldest sister, just one year older than he, sat calmly in a chair facing their father. Madalena was always the picture of serenity and maturity, the true backbone of the family where Lance was only a pretender. Now, though, she was worrying her bottom lip and bright red spots were blossoming on her cheekbones.

“What’s going on?” Lance found his voice, ready for answers.

“Lance,” Madalena said, rising from her chair. Her mother grabbed her shoulder sharply and pushed her back down.

“You’re supposed to be outside watching the children,” his mother said, her voice sharper than he’d ever heard it.

“I need to know what’s wrong. I’m an adult now—eighteen—I deserve to be a part of this family.”

“It’s fine,” his father said, even as his mother opened her mouth to respond. “We’ll figure this out together. Have a seat Lance.”

Lance finds his balance and walks steadily over to the kitchen table. The top is worn from use; most everything in their small house is. Five children can do that.

“You know that your brother Hector has taken a job at the Garrison, the station that controls this area. I had asked him to find an eligible match for Madalena, so that we might receive a dowry soon and find some financial relief.”

Lance bit the inside of his cheek—Hector had started his job six months ago and had never been a fast worker. If his father was trying to tell him that someone had come to call on Madalena—Lance had thought he’d had more time with her. It would be hard to see her go so soon.

“He received a missive today. Someone has heard of Madalena’s beauty, availability—and they have answered our proposal.”

Lance glanced at Madalena. She was beautiful, that was sure; she far exceeded any other in the land that he had ever laid eyes on, including the aliens who would come to the intergalactic port city they lived in for fuel and supplies. Maybe Lance was biased, though, because Madalena used to confide in him her insecurities. Lance understood that more than most, and her utter lack of arrogance in her looks made him so proud to be related to her. He used to hope when he was younger that her beauty might mean he was beautiful too.

Now, though, her beauty looked like a curse; her plump red lips were tight with fear, her gorgeous green eyes blown wide, her sun-warmed skin growing pale. Something was horribly wrong here.

“Dad,” Lance started, swinging himself around to face him. “Who was the missive from.”

His father paused, taking a shaky breath. “The castle. The prince.”

Lance’s heart froze. Everything suddenly made sense—the fear, the tension in the room. The prince was regarded throughout the land as a cruel master; keen enough in diplomacy and peacekeeping to keep their land safe, but vile in personality. Everyone who had worked in the Garrison, the station closest to the castle where the prince would often carry his work out, had a story to tell about the mysterious prince. What was most interesting was that no one could say for sure what he looked like. He kept himself shrouded utterly; even his hands were gloved in the stories people would tell of him striking them down.

There was no way that, if it were not for his power and title, his family would even be considering this offer. They all cared so deeply for Madalena, but the needs of the few often outweighed the needs of the many, and there were many in this family. The money from the dowry was sorely needed.

“He wants her as a bride?”

His father hung his head. “He expressed interest. He would pay the dowry in full for someone from our family to remain at his side in the castle. I could only assume he meant Madalena.”

Lance’s ears perked up. “He didn’t say her specifically?”

“Who else could he mean, Lance?” His mother shouted suddenly. “Madalena’s beauty is renowned throughout the land. He could only have heard the stories, and found out about our proposition through your brother. Who else could he mean?”

Lance rose silently. “I’ll go.”

“What?” His father hissed. Madalena’s hand snaked out, grabbed his. “Lance, no. I’ll do it. Even if he didn’t call for me specifically, doesn’t mean he mightn’t be angered if I’m not the one who shows up. I don’t want to risk his wrath.”

“He won’t come after the family; he’ll pay for me, I know he will. And it’s his fault for not writing better instructions,” Lance said with a grin. “Besides, I can handle myself.”

Madalena’s eyes flashed brilliantly. “So can I.”

Lance chuckled, mood brightening now that he saw the solution to all of this. He squeezed her hand fondly. “I know you can, _mi hermana preciosa_. But our family needs you more than it needs me. Don’t argue, I know it’s true. It’s my time to do something to contribute to this family.”

He looked at his parents. “Do you agree?”

The look they shared told him all he needed to know. “Then it’s settled.”

“Are you sure you won’t… anger him?” His father asked. “His wrath could destroy our family.”

Lance tightened his jaw. “I won’t let him,” he promised.

His father shakily backed away from the table, though his ease was visible. “I’ll get Hector to reply to the missive." He placed a hand on Lance’s shoulder. “We appreciate this more than you could know, son.”

Lance looked back to Madalena’s watery relief and knew he was making the right call.

\---

Lance was set to begin his journey to the castle the day after the next. He spent the evening before packing only a few belongings; memories of home, mostly. Carefully mended articles of clothing, his mother’s love in the seams; a few letters from Hector at the Garrison, and brightly drawn pictures from Ana and Maria. He tucked those into his knapsack with a heavy heart; they also reminded him of why he was doing this.

From Madalena, he sought only advice. He spent the night in her room, her fingers combing through his hair, pinching his arm when he made an off-color joke that upset her. She didn’t cry, but the tears were in her voice every time they talked about the future.

“You mustn’t let him hurt you,” she said. Lance hummed. Then, “you must come back to us.”

Lance jolted at that. His heart sunk low in his chest. The consequence had been there, sure, but it felt more raw and real now. He knew that realistically, the prince would not let him go, especially once Lance accepted a place at his side.

Could he make that promise, then, knowing all this?

He sunk his head back into the pillow. “I promise.”

They remained in comfortable silence for a few minutes longer, the tension of the day to come easing between them. 

“Why did you do it?” She asked as they were on the verge of falling asleep. Lance didn’t answer her until he saw her eyes drift closed and felt her breathing even out.

Finally, he said, “I feel like it was meant for me.”

\---

Lance was on board a shuttle, heart clenching and unclenching in fear, trying not to think about the tears in his family’s eyes as he had said goodbye. Maria was the hardest to say goodbye to, only three years old and not yet able to understand why her brother, who was always there for her, was hugging her so tightly. Her chubby hands had grabbed onto his shirt and his mother had had to pull her away from him. Lance wished there was someone to forcibly pull him away from them, too—it would be easier that way.

Realistically, Lance did feel a pressure pulling him to the castle. Though he had volunteered for this—for his family, and for the prince—it still felt like a sentence that he needed to carry out.

When he got there and made his case to the prince, he would ensure his family got the money they deserved. It was the only thing that would make this separation worth it.

The shuttle passed through the Garrison, the course metal and rusted beams a sharp contrast to the green area he had grown up in all of his life. He had been to the Garrison before to trade in the intergalactic markets, but never had the area felt so cold to him.

The castle lay in the heart of the Garrison, sanctioned off by guards. Lance stepped up to the castle’s opening, the hallways around it completely deserted. He placed his hand on a keypad near the door, mostly for the hell of it. His body went cold in surprise when the doors slid open.

There was no one on the other side to welcome him in, and the artificial light of the hallway behind him only bled in so much to the darkened area before him. As the castle doors slid shut behind him, Lance watched in awe as the castle foyer went from pitch black to dimly lit by blue, alien-like sigils. Lance could converse with several different alien species—the byproduct of growing up in a trading family—but he had never seen anything like this before.

“Hello?” He called weakly, shifting the bag on his shoulder. He ventured a little farther into the castle.

“Who are you?” A masculine voice startled him from behind. He spun around and found a figure cloaked in shadows—as well as an actual cloak. He bit his lip and straightened his posture.

“I’m… Lance. The prince asked for someone from my family to join you at the castle and I’ve answered. I expect my family will be receiving my sister’s dowry despite my presence here.”

“Your sister’s dowry?” The voice was cool where Lance’s was tight with nerves. The man stepped forward but Lance could not make out any features still—the red cloak had been drawn up with the hood.

“We—I expected that my sister was the one he expected to call on. I hope my presence here doesn’t disturb the prince, but he never specified w _ho_ he wanted so—”

“I understand,” the voice interrupted him, and Lance’s worry shifted to annoyance. He had practiced his introduction several times on the shuttle over. “Your family will receive payment for your presence here. Follow me.”

Lance sighed in relief; at least that was taken care of. He decided it couldn’t hurt to follow the figure.

As he trailed behind him through the long passageways of the castle, he noticed the significant lack of people. Sure, now standard chores like cooking and cleaning were done with robots, but was this guy the only human assistant the prince had? And when would he get to meet the prince?

It suddenly occurred to him that there was no reason he couldn’t share these thoughts aloud.

“Excuse me,” he said, jogging ahead to keep pace with the figure. “But when will I get to see the prince? I’d really like his word that my family will get their money, and besides, I’d like to meet the guy I’m gonna be living with for who knows how long—”

The figure chuckled and Lance felt that flash of annoyance again. “Hey! I think these questions are only fair—”

He was cut off this time by the emergence of a gloved hand from the red cloak, reaching up and pulling off the cloak in its entirety—hood and all. Lance felt his mouth hanging open and shut it with a _click_. Standing before him was a Galran—an alien being that Lance had seen maybe only once in his life. They ruled the outskirts of the galaxy, a fierce race that was intent on war above all.

The man—he was humanoid, and masculine, at least—was coated in a heavy purple tint, and his features were almost feline. He had jet black curls— _was that natural?_ —and jutting out from that were long, curved ears. His body was clothed in the tight black suit of those who guarded the Garrison, and though his body was muscular, he was not much taller than Lance—he was very, very different than the huge Galran prisoner he had seen once before as a child. Lance felt shock, but not fear. He set his jaw.

“Well?” The Galran spoke to him. “Will you not bow to your prince?”

Lance’s blood ran cold at that. Surely not—“What?” he said.

“What?” The man mimicked him with a laugh. “Is that all you’ll say to the ‘guy you’re gonna be living with for who knows how long’.”

Lance flinched at his words thrown back at him and, despite the chill in his body, he still felt that surge of annoyance. This was going to take some time getting used to.

“Would you like me to bow?” He asked. The man’s features were still humanoid enough that his brown raised in surprise.

“That won’t be necessary. You will treat me with respect, though, or your family will not receive their payment.”

“Blackmail, now?” Lance said, crossing his arms. “And here I thought I was doing you the favor.”

“Don’t be mistaken,” the man—the prince’s voice—was cold. “I asked for _your_ presence, never expecting to pay your sister’s dowry. That’s a kindness I’ll afford you, though.”

Lance was thrown back by that. “Me?” He said. The prince ignored him, though, and moved on through the hallways. Lance let the waves of confusion run off him and prepared himself for the next surprise.

“This will be where we take our meals,” the prince said, gesturing to a long metal table in the center of a huge metal room. Lance’s heart ached for the cozy, broken down kitchen at home.

“You have access to any of the surrounding rooms, but I would prefer that you not leave the castle or travel to any of my private wings.”

Lance hated to say he had been expecting this, but it made sense. It was why he had prepared himself for never seeing his family again. He really hoped it wouldn’t be true, but—

“Will I ever be allowed to leave the castle?” He had to ask.

The prince looked at him, something in his unnatural eyes softening. “We can discuss that at a later date.”

It wasn’t the answer Lance had been expecting, but he would take it.

“Your room is up here. Follow me,” the prince demanded, and Lance obeyed. What else was there to do.

Lance’s prepared quarters looked shockingly cozy. There was a huge bed and several tables and bookshelves to fill with his belongings. Up until six months ago, when Hector left for the Garrison, he had never had a room to himself. Now, he had this giant one all to himself.

The prince shifted nervously at his side and Lance felt the grin on his face smooth away. Something was wrong here.

“There is a condition for your stay here,” the prince said.

Lance lifted a brow. “Oh yeah?”

“I will… call on you, at night.”

Lance nearly keeled over, his face burning a brilliant red. “I—w _hat?_ ”

The prince looked just as embarrassed, if that were possible, the light purple of his face turning darker. “Not like that,” he said. “I wish to remain the nights here with you, so that we may… get to know each other. I am quite busy during the days and so we will not have that time together.”

Lance really, really hated to admit it but—that almost made sense. He had also prepared himself for this possibility, although the request for his presence had made no mention of any serious relationship. Still, for his family’s sake, he was willing to give it a go.

“Okay,” he said, and the prince chanced a nervous look at him.

“Are you sure?” He said, and Lance almost laughed.

“Yeah, sure.”

“There is another condition,” the prince said, and Lance braced himself. “The lights must always be kept off during my visit. The room must remain pitch black. To ensure this, they are timed with an electrical suppressor so that even if you motioned for the light to be turned on, it would not. This is imperative if our relationship is to work.”

Lance was… utterly confused by that, but it didn’t seem like a cause for concern. He was sure he could bond just as well with the prince in the dark and, if he were being totally honest, it might even be easier not to look at that frightening Galran face.

“Okay,” he said again, and the prince nodded, almost in relief.

“Okay.”

\---

They ate dinner in relative, nervous silence that night. The food was really good, Lance had to admit. He had been able to take a peek into the kitchen and sure enough, it was staffed entirely by robots and mechanical moving parts. Still, even without taste buds they had a remarkable ability to prepare a delicious meal.

“This is good,” Lance said, hoping to start a conversation. The prince just hummed, and Lance felt that stab of annoyance again. How odd; of all the things he should be feeling about this situation—anger, fear—that was the one he jumped to?

Lance cleared his throat. “So… what do I call you?”

The prince raised his head to look up at Lance and a smile flickered across his stern face. “What have you called me in the past? It’s not like you don’t know who I am.”

Lance shrugged. “I don’t know. I know that everyone in the Garrison calls you by some royal title, but where I’m from we’ve always called you the Prince.” Or some other vaguely treasonous names. “I was just wondering if you had, like, a first name.”

The prince put down his fork and pushed his food away. “I… do. I suppose if we are going to be sharing such close quarters, you can call me Keith.”

Lance felt an odd bubble of joy burst in his chest. He couldn’t help but smile. “Keith?”

There was annoyance again—on the prince’s face this time. “Yes.”

“Okay. Keith. Right, I can go with that.”

The prince—Keith’s voice was clipped when he answered. “You’ll have to go with it. It’s my name.”

“Right, right,” Lance said, pushing away his own plate. “I’m sorry, it just doesn’t seem very Galran to me.”

Keith froze. “What did you say?”

Lance shrugged. “I mean, you’re Galran right? I’ve only seen one other before, but I was pretty sure—”

“I’m not Galran,” Keith said, rising suddenly from the table. “Don’t say that again.”

“I—okay?”

Keith was already mostly out the door, leaving Lance hazy with confusion.

He didn’t expect to see him that night, he really didn’t. In fact, he had almost forgotten about their deal. Lance was reading one of the books he’d brought with him in bed when suddenly the lights shut off entirely, leaving him in pitch blackness. He fiddled with the lamp at his bedside but it wouldn’t switch on. When he heard a door open in the darkness, he remembered.

“Keith?” He said warily, nearly jumping out of his skin when he felt someone slip into the bed next to him.

“It’s just me,” Keith’s voice was smooth in the darkness, and it neatly quenched Lance’s fear—but not his confusion.

“What are you doing here? In—in bed?” The bed was extremely large, too large for Lance alone, but he still could feel Keith’s presence beside him. It was partly unnatural and partly—reassuring.

“Did you forget about my conditions?”

“A little,” Lance said, trying for honesty.

There was a sharp sigh next to him, and Lance could almost picture the prince rolling his eyes. He chuckled to himself that he was able to get under this guy’s skin already. He always had had a talent.

“I thought—we could talk,” Keith said. Lance tucked away his book and folded his arms, even though he knew Keith couldn’t see him in the darkness.

“Oh? Or are you going to storm off again?”

“That’s unfair—”

“Is it?”

Silence. “I suppose it’s a little fair. It’s just, there are certain things I can’t discuss with you.”

“Like your race?” Lance said, unbelieving.

Another stretch of silence. “Yes.”

Lance still felt confused, but he knew when not to press an issue. “Alright. So… how long are you going to be here? I’m pretty tired from today.”

“I understand. Just… a little while.”

“Alright,” Lance said, leaning back into the pillows. He thought he felt Keith do the same. “What do you want to talk about?”

“I don’t know. Tell me about your family? You seem to care a great deal about them.”

Lance felt that he could push a few more buttons tonight.

“I care about whether or not they got their money.”

Keith’s chuckle rumbled through the darkness. Not the reaction Lance was expecting. “They did. So tell me about them.”

Well. Lance could never resist the opportunity to brag about his beloved ones. “Well, Maria’s the youngest—”

\---

Lance was shocked with how quickly it became routine. He didn’t remember Keith leaving that first night, didn’t even remember falling asleep, but the next thing he knew he was woken up to bright light and Keith was gone. He found him at the breakfast table and they shared a meal in peaceful silence.

Then, Keith would head out for the Garrison, cloaked in his heavy red robe and gloves. Lance wondered if anyone knew about his identity—probably not, as it would be news to everyone in the land, and Lance had certainly been taken by surprise. Lately, as he watched Keith step out the doors of the castle, he wondered at how hard it must be to keep your identity a secret to so many. He also wondered at how quickly Keith had revealed himself to Lance.

No wonder Keith had been so upset at that first dinner—Lance might not have commented on Keith’s nature at first, but he had brought it up. If Keith was hiding from something, Lance had definitely let him down. He thought about ways that he could make it up to Keith, but honestly, the man never talked about himself—he let Lance do all the talking, and unfortunately, that was never something Lance minded.

After three weeks had passed of the same routine, Lance resolved to ask Keith that night to tell him something about himself.

“You want to know what?”

“I want to know about your family,” Lance said. “That was the first thing you asked me about, so I thought it was important to you.”

Lance felt Keith shift next to him. It felt like lately he’d been inching closer to Lance, and Lance knew for a fact there were several nights when Keith had fallen asleep well before Lance, which meant he definitely felt comfortable enough to stay with Lance overnight.

“I’m sorry,” Keith started. “But there’s nothing to tell you. I don’t have a family.”

Lance reached out into the darkness and felt his fingers brush against something soft, but Keith jerked away too quickly. “I’m sorry.” He paused. “The castle?”

“I found myself in the care of your previous rulers and they helped me establish my presence here. When they passed I inherited everything but, they weren’t my family.”

Lance felt stupid, so stupid. Of course he had known that already, there had been so many stories…

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I kind of knew that. I just thought maybe you had some memories—”

“I don’t,” Keith snapped. Then, softer. “I don’t.”

Lance reached out again, further, and felt Keith take his hand, guiding it to what Lance could only assume was his face. It was soft and cool, and Lance ran the backs of his fingers across the skin in a soothing gesture, before pulling back. Keith edged forward.

“Thank you,” he said, and Lance felt like he was drifting in the darkness.

“O-Of course,” he said. “Um, I’m pretty beat, so I’m gonna turn in. See you in the morning?”

He snuggled back into the myriad of pillows and blankets that populated the bed, and was glad that in the darkness he could not see Keith’s face as the man whispered a soft “Good night.”

\---

It was the next morning that he ventured to bring it up.

“Do you think I could see my family soon?”

Keith’s head snapped up from his breakfast and something like fear flashed over his alien features. Lance held his ground and raised an expectant eyebrow.

“Lance—” Keith started, and Lance shrugged. “It’s been over three weeks. I know I’m not supposed to expect to see them, but I can’t help it. I just want them to know I’m doing alright.”

“Of course you’re alright!” Keith scoffed. “Did anyone expect me to hurt you?”

Lance sighed. “You have a reputation, you know you do.”

“But—” Lance had never heard Keith sound so petty. “But I wouldn’t!”

Lance rolled his eyes. “ _I_ know that” – _now_ — “but I’d prefer it if my family also knew that. I can’t just write that in a letter, you know?”

Keith still looked unsure, so he decided to pull out the big guns. “Besides, it’s almost Ana’s birthday, and I had promised—”

Keith’s sigh rivaled Hector’s moodiest during puberty. “Will it make you happy?”

That took Lance by surprise. He took in the dark flush of Keith’s features and nodded. “Yeah, yeah it will.”

“Alright then. Pick a day within the next week and it’s yours. You can have the day, but I expect you back that night.”

Lance groaned internally at the time restriction, but even that didn’t deter the flood of joy that rushed through him. He pushed away from the table and ran over to Keith, happily embracing him.

“Thank you!” he shouted a little too excitedly (and a little too loudly), and when he felt Keith flinch away from him he was sure that was the reason.

\---

Lance hadn’t exaggerated about Ana’s birthday, and if he had calculated right it was scheduled for three days after Keith and Lance had had that conversation at breakfast. When he told Keith the day he had chosen, the man had nodded sharply and excused himself to head out to the Garrison.

The nights leading up to the day of Lance’s departure were not as tense as Lance had imagined. Keith seemed to want to make a good impression on Lance, as if to ensure he would come back. If Lance were being truthful, as much as his family was a siren call to him in the distance, he had always planned on coming back to Keith. A promise was a promise, and he felt some strange sort of pull to the prince as well.

The night before he left was the first time Keith reached out to touch him. Lance was almost asleep when he felt something soft trail across his forehead, brushing away his bangs. He blearily registered the cool touch as something belonging to Keith, and then there was the touch of something warm, the faint register of sweet breath. It reminded him of the pecks he gave his sisters, or those his mom had given him, but very different in a way he couldn’t place his finger on—more tender. That is, if it had been a kiss at all, which he was sure it hadn’t been.

In the darkness, he heard a soft plea: “Come back to me.”

He was asleep before he could answer.

Keith wasn’t there at breakfast, nor to bid him goodbye as he got on the shuttle. He arrived home in what felt like record time, for which he was immensely thankful. He was hardly off the shuttle before he was sprinting through the town for his house.

His family was tending to the garden, the perfect picture of a happy family. Nearly all of them burst into tears when they saw him, especially Ana, who wailed her thanks to Lance for “the best birthday present ever!”

He celebrated with family until dinner, when the younger kids went off to play with some of Ana’s new toys—new, partly thanks to the money that Lance’s father told him was all thanks to him. Then, the conversation turned serious.

“How does he treat you?” His mother asked, always one for drama.

Lance willed the flush away from his cheeks. “It’s really not bad. He treats me well, I honestly haven’t seen where the rumors come from, but then again, I haven’t been out of the castle until now—”

“He doesn’t let you leave? How awful!” His mother looked about to swoon, and he reached across the table to hold her hand in reassurance.

“I’m here now, right? I’m sure that as we get closer he’ll let me out to see you guys more.”

As he was getting ready to head out, packing a few more drawings that Maria and Ana had made him, as well as some extra truffles his mom had made for the party, he felt a hand on his shoulder. Whirling around, he was met with Madalena’s exquisitely beautiful face.

“What is it, dear?” He said, the chuckle dying in his throat when he saw the concern on her face.

“You said something at dinner, about how you talk at night in the dark with... him?”

Lance cleared his throat nervously. “Yeah, weird, right?”

Madalena worried her lip. “I just have a bad feeling about this,” she said. “Why wouldn’t he want you to look at him at night? What if there’s something… wrong with him?”

He hadn’t told his family about Keith’s appearance, couldn’t even tell Madalena. But she was looking at him in a way like she knew…

She was shaking her head. “There are… aliens… that can shapeshift, you know. No one’s ever seen him but you, so what if that’s what he can do? And what if he’s like… sucking out your life force at night?”

Lance chuckled nervously. “All we’re doing is talking and sleeping, Madalena, I promise you.”

“That’s what I’m worried about,” she said. “You’re at your most vulnerable asleep, and you can’t even see who’s sleeping next to you?”

“I _have_ seen him, Madalena.”

“But not at night.”

Lance opened his mouth to argue, but found no argument. It really was odd how Keith had taken all lights away in that room, how different his energy felt in the pitch black—his skin—but he always looked the same in the morning, at breakfast.

“What if he’s something entirely different than what you think?” Madalena continued. “I just think you have the right to know. And if you can’t ask him…” She hesitated. “What if you could see him?”

There was no way Lance thought Keith could hurt him. He would know. But he was hiding something—he was so squirrely about his appearance, after all. _What if he could see him_?

“I can’t, Madalena. He already told me there’s an electrical suppressor in the room—I can’t turn on any of the lights.”

Madalena smiled. “There’s an old fashioned way of doing things, you know.”

She slipped a waxy object into his hand. Lance held it up—a candle. She held a book of matches up to him as well.

“Light this tonight and you’ll be able to see him.” Her face grew soft. “It seems you really do care for him; I’m a little surprised. But it’s because you care for him that I want you to be safe.”

Lance blushed, but again couldn’t argue with her. She was his sister, and she’d always known him best. “I… think I do care for him. Quite a lot.”

Her smile was warm. “I’m glad you’re making the best out of the situation. Now you need to shed some light on everything.” Her accompanying wink made Lance laugh, low in his chest. It felt good to be with her again.

“Thanks, sis,” he said. “I’m glad you’re looking out for me.”

“Hey,” she said. “I’m just returning the favor.”

\---

Lance entered through the castle doors, the candle and book of matches a heavy weight in his pocket. He expected Keith to be out in the Garrison still, and was surprised when he walked in and was immediately folded into an embrace.

“You’re back,” Keith sighed against him, as if there had been a very real fear that Lance wouldn’t return. Lance felt a little guilty, wished he had reassured Keith more, but he pulled away and felt the contraband objects shift in his pocket and knew that they were both hiding something.

That night, it felt like Keith took forever to crawl into bed. His presence next to Lance was warm and, surprisingly, welcome. Perhaps the visit to his family, and the acknowledgement of his feelings towards Keith to his sister, had warmed Lance’s heart more than he expected. He held out his hand to the darkness and was surprised when Keith grabbed it, interlocking their fingers.

Lance’s face burned brilliantly, but Keith only sighed easily in the darkness, and his fingers loosened their grip. Lance listened carefully to his breathing even out, and waited, until finally he was sure that Keith had fallen asleep.

With shaky hands, he reached into the pocket of his loose cotton pants and pulled out the waxy candle, the book of matches. It felt like it was going to be impossible to light the candle in the pitch blackness, and he had to be careful not to shift wildly while doing so and wake Keith.

Eventually, though, he felt the match spark against the strip, and by its light he found the wick of the candle. Warm light flooded his face, and he grinned at his triumph.

Heart pounding wildly, he swung the candle so its light shone on Keith’s face.

Within a moment, the candle almost slid from Lance’s grasp. Keith lay before him, face turned upwards and towards Lance, a soft smile on his lips. His lips—soft and plump, full of color, like nothing Lance had seen before. Gone was the purplish tone to his skin; instead, a rich and healthy cream color. His face was framed by jet black curls, and Lance would hazard a guess that the ears hidden below them were pretty standard (if not beautiful) as well. He looked… human.

Lance brought the candle downward and was shocked to see that Keith was shirtless, too. He brought a hand to stifle the shocked noise that came bubbling up—Keith was _gorgeous_. The attraction had always been there, regardless of what he looked like, but this new form was something that Lance had never expected to see. It was almost as if Keith had walked right out of Lance’s dreams.

Unbidden, Lance moved forward until his face was closer to Keith’s. He felt the other man’s breath on his lips, and licked them carefully. Could he—?

Suddenly, Keith’s eyes flashed open and he roared in pain. Lance shot backward and felt the candle jostle in his hand, hot wax spilling over the side and stinging his skin. He realized what he had done immediately; he had tilted the candle too far and spilled the liquid wax on Keith’s bare chest, burning the man and shocking him awake. White hot shame filled Lance and he extinguished the candle, flinging it away, but just before the light disappeared he saw Keith’s eyes and knew.

“Keith—” he started, but his voice felt lost in the darkness. A hand shot out and grabbed for him, and Lance darted away.

“LIGHTS,” Keith roared, and suddenly the room was flooded with the dim blue light that lit the rest of the castle. Keith was still in his gorgeous, beautiful human form, but his eyes were wild and flashing like an animal’s.

“How could you—” He started, his voice raw with anger. Lance flung up his hands guiltily. “You didn’t trust me? Is that it?”

Lance remained silent, lost for words for once in his life.

“I let you see your family, you ungrateful little _child_ , and this is how you repay me? Betraying my trust?” He was advancing towards Lance on his muscular, beautiful legs, and all Lance could do was sway backward.

Keith’s awful eyes grew colder. “Was that seed always in your mind, even as we got closer? Were you always planning on betraying me?” A knowing look spread across his features. “Or were they the ones who planted it, guiding you to the act… Maybe they’re the ones I need to punish.”

Lance felt the rage enter his heart in a flash. “Don’t you dare,” he hissed, taking a few steps toward Keith. “You’re to blame here, not telling me about this, keeping it a secret like it’s something to be ashamed of. I am _lost_ here. _I_ got close to you, okay? And you were always going to keep this from me? Like you were keeping me from my family? Was I ever going to find out?”

Keith’s face fell, and Lance swore his vision blurred for a second as Keith almost seemed to drop out of space.

“It was only for a year,” Keith said solemnly. “I was… cursed. I am cursed. I couldn’t tell you, and you couldn’t find out. You had to learn to love me at my worst before you could see me at my best.” The anger returned. “I guess you couldn’t handle it.”

Lance’s chest burned. “That’s where you were wrong. I did lo—like you, that’s why I felt that there just couldn’t be secrets between us anymore.”

“Then you should have confronted me,” Keith said sadly. There it was again; the flicker. “We could have worked this out together, instead of you going behind my back. I—I love you, Lance,” Keith said, his face pale. “And now we can never be together.”

Lance advanced again so he was almost cradling Keith. He lifted a hand to his cheek; it felt… insubstantial. “What do you mean?”

“I told you; I was cursed. When I was young I was set to serve a master but—I refused. I was cursed to take the shape of those I hated, but at night I could return to my true self. I would only be free of the curse if someone could love me for a year without knowing who I truly was—and, if that failed, I would be brought back to that kingdom immediately to serve my master again, without any relief in sight.”

Keith brought his hand up to cover Lance’s, which was stroking the tears away from his cheeks. “I built this for myself, here, Lance,” his voice shook. “I thought I was happy but—I saw you, visiting your brother here once, and I had to try. With you. I was willing to risk it.”

Lance felt his finger slip through Keith’s image, as though he were only a ghost. Lance blinked and found that Keith had faded to almost nothing. Panic bubbled in his chest.

“Keith?” He said. “What’s happening?”

“I have to go now, Lance. I have to return to my master.”

Lance shook his head, hands grasping futilely at Keith’s face. “No! No, Keith—I’m sorry, I do love you! Even before, even before all this I—”

Keith smiled softly. “It’s too late, Lance.”

“It’s not!” Lance said. He surged forward and pressed his lips to Keith’s but felt only the whisper of pressure. “I’ll find you,” he promised, as Keith blinked in and out of existence. “Just tell me where you’re going.”

Keith’s voice sounded far, far away, but Lance held on to those words like his life depended on them. As Keith finally disappeared, Lance heard it:

“East of the sun, west of the moon.”


	2. Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for staying with this fic, and for all of your kind comments of support!
> 
> This chapter brings us to the "space" part of this space fairy tale AU. I follow the structure of "East of the Sun, West of the Moon" pretty carefully but deviate wildly in some respects-- particularly the last challenge. There are notes at the end for all of you interested in the deviations I made from the fairy tale and my reasoning. 
> 
> Please enjoy Part Two!

Lance passed the rest of the night in a state of fitful worry, plotting out how he was going to find Keith.

Lance didn’t know where else to start; the following morning he went right to the head offices of the Garrison. Surely someone who worked with Keith knew some aspect of his story—surely Lance wasn’t the only one?

His heart still hung low in his chest as he made his way through the cold hallways of the Garrison, thinking about how he had betrayed Keith. He hadn’t known that was going to happen, of course, but still… he had just been so lost.

Lance clenched his fist. None of that mattered now, because he _would_ find a way to rescue Keith, to bring him back, even if Keith didn’t want him by his side after this.

His feet numbly brought him to the head of the Garrison, an older, redheaded man named Coran. Lance had seen him once or twice during addresses to the land—he was widely regarded as the face of the prince. Now, of course, Lance understood why—

“Excuse me, sir?” He said. Coran’s eyes widened in surprise, and then warmed suddenly.

“Ah yes, young Lance, how may I help you?”

“Y-You know me?”

Coran smiled fondly. “Of course I do. Our young prince would speak of you often. I’m glad to see your arrangement has progressed to the point where we can meet! You two must have grown quite close.”

Lance’s blood felt shockingly cold. He shook his head. “It’s not that. We have a problem. The prince—” How was he even supposed to put this? “The prince has gone missing.”

Coran’s eyes widened imperceptibly, and then he spun on his heel. “Follow me.”

He led Lance deeper into the offices and closed the door behind them when they entered a small room. A desk was the only object there—it looked like the kind of table one would chart strategy on.

“There are powers in this universe that we have yet to fully comprehend,” Coran began. “Our dear prince understood this better than most. I uncovered his secret quite by accident and, after regaining his trust, I promised that I would help him any way I could.”

He pulled out a heavy box from his desk, and placed it down with a loud _thunk_. Lance felt the heavy stench of dust assault his lungs and held back a cough.

“We set up a—contingency if you will—if anything were to ever happen to him. I can handle the state for as long as it takes, though I would prefer him back and safe from all harm before any major decisions need to be made.” He winked at Lance. “Our prince is quite the statesman. You should be proud.”

Lance felt an irrational flush of guilt. He had no right to be anything to Keith, not after what he did. He shook it from his system. _Redemption_.

“What do I need to do?”

“There are several objects that are sought after by the Galra Empire—the ones who have Keith in their clutches. The objects are quite harmless, but the Galra place quite an emphasis on them. You will need to acquire them and bring them to the edge of the galaxy—straight into Galran hands. Perhaps they will be interested in a trade for our dear prince. Do you think you could accomplish this?”

A trade—Lance came from a trading family, had been doing it all his life. He felt his heart stir. “Yes, sir.”

Coran’s grin was wide and reminded Lance of his father at his best. “Excellent. You will need three items and a crew—luckily, I believe the items are in the possession of some very handy and helpful people.” He opened the box and shuffled around some papers. “Here’s a list!”

_That’s helpful_ , Lance thought, latching onto the list immediately. He scanned it carefully but did not recognize any of the names.

“Don’t worry,” Coran spoke, as if hearing his thoughts. “You will be able to find all but one in the Garrison. Your fourth task is to find your pilot, and you’ll have to journey a little ways to find him. I do believe the others will be able to help you.”

Lance sighed nervously. He was amazed that the solution was right here in his hands but—it still seemed impossible somehow. He looked up and found Coran looking anxious.

“What is it?”

“The one thing our young prince never told me was where to find the heart of the Galra Empire—the very place where we can find his master, King Zarkon.”

_East of the sun, west of the moon_. Lance nodded carefully. “If you get me to the edge of the galaxy, I can find him. I will find him.”

Coran’s uneasiness disappeared. “There we have it. Let’s go find Allura.”

\---

Allura was a stunning woman, who reminded Lance of his sister. His heart clenched painfully once more, and then he resolved to stop sulking. He would find Keith, apologize, and hopefully be accepted into his good graces once more. Now was the time for action.

“What do we have here?” She asked, her voice a beautiful lilt. Lance couldn’t help but smile and introduce himself.

“We need your help to find our prince, my dear,” Coran said, his voice almost worshipping as he spoke to her. Lance raised an eyebrow.

“Oh,” Allura said, placing a hand to her chest. “That’s serious.”

Lance cleared his throat. “I believe you have an item that could come in handy?”

Allura looked thoughtful. “Yes, yes I do. But I was sure that Prince Keith said—”

“Allura,” Coran said, moving towards her. He held out his hand and she took it. “I understand that our dear prince might have told you it was too dangerous to have these items come into Galra control, but I assure you they are worthless when compared to his life.”

Allura nodded slowly. “You are right. They’re naught but trinkets, something that only the greedy Galra Empire would desire.” She moved to a compartment in her office and held her hand to it. With a slight whirring of mechanics, the panel dislodged, and reaching in she pulled out a glorious golden cog.

Lance was surprised for a moment. It had a brilliant sheen to it, almost blinding, but other than that it was still only a little—trinket, exactly as Allura had said. She saw his confusion and smiled kindly.

“It’s indestructible,” she said. “It can be placed in the weakest engine and make it run as fast as light. It carries properties that we don’t fully understand, but if it will bring back Prince Keith—” she tucked it into Lance’s hand, folding them within her slightly darker, very soft ones. He couldn’t help but feel at peace with this, one step closer to Keith.

“I understand,” he said.

“I know you do,” she said. She turned to Coran. “Are we ready for the next item?”

\---

“A satellite?” Lance said. How was he supposed to sell a satellite to the Galran Empire?

They hadn’t traveled far from Allura’s quarters to reach Pidge, a technical engineer and one of the best in the Garrison. Even Lance felt like he had heard her name before. She was a little roughed up when they got there, looked like she had been for a while. Lance wondered at that.

“A satellite,” Pidge said. “Capable of combing through information that even the best coder can’t reach. It would be—” she shook their head. “It would be difficult for us if the Galra Empire got its hands on it.”

Lance was starting to understand now; this wasn’t as easy as he had thought. He was going to have to make sacrifices—all of them were going to have to make sacrifices, for their prince.

“Please,” he said. It was all he could say.

Pidge looked up, met his eyes, smiled. “Don’t worry,” she said. “The Galras took someone from me a while ago too. Two someones. So… I understand. I’d do anything to get them back.”

She slipped him a key. “The satellite is in Bay 7, but I can help you get it out. On one condition.”

“Anything,” Lance said, meaning it. She held up a photo. “If you see anyone who looks like them while you’re… up there, could you…?”

Lance shrugged. “That’ll be easy,” he said, and Pidge’s eyes fluttered in surprise. “Since you’re coming with me.”

He was met with a wild grin.

\---

After they retrieved the satellite and placed it on a shuttle—they would need it to find their pilot, apparently—they headed for the mechanical wing to look for someone named “Hunk”. Allura and Coran had had to return to official state business, so it was just Lance and Pidge now.

She turned a careful eye to him. “So. You and the prince, huh?”

Lance felt the flush rise to his face and shook his head. “He hates me. I—really messed up, and now I’m just looking to do right by him.”

Pidge shrugged. “It’s cool. Everyone really looks up to him around here so I can understand the need to get him back.”

Lance heard it again, that adoration for Keith that he’d never heard in the towns below. “Can I ask you something?” He said.

“Sure.”

“I’d always heard that the prince treated his workers terribly. We heard horror stories down where I’m from…”

“Oh!” Pidge sounded surprised. “It’s hard to say. The prince did have a bit of a temper. And I never—had a conversation with him, except for when my family was taken by the Galrans. He came down to my office specifically to talk to me and the things he had to say—” Her eyes were glistening. “It meant a lot.”

She shook her head. “But I suppose he did look a little frightening always dressed in that cloak. It even freaked me out.”

Lance could only hum in agreement as they suddenly found themselves at the door to the mechanical wing. The door slid open suddenly and they found themselves face to face with a hulk of a man. Lance looked up and—

“You!” He said. The guy looked back down at him and smiled.

“You!” Lance didn’t know what else to do so he held up his fist. The other guy pounded it graciously.

“It’s good to see a familiar face.”

Pidge looked confused. “You two know each other?”

The guy shook his head. “Not really. We used to play together when his family came in for trading. His mom made the _best_ desserts!”

Lance smiled proudly. “Name’s Lance.”

“Hunk,” the man said, holding out his hand. Lance took it with revelation.

“I’m—I actually think I’m looking for you.”

Hunk looked confused. “Oh yeah?”

Pidge shook her head, seemingly exasperated. “Let’s take it inside, boys.”

Hunk heard him out, lip quavering in sympathy as Lance glossed over the part about his lost love—or like—and immediately had the solution for him.

“Yeah!” He said. “It’s this—well, it’s sort of like a spinning wheel? For wire?”

Lance and Pidge blinked in confusion. Hunk sighed, suddenly serious. “Trust me, the Galra Empire will want it. It can be rigged to cause some serious explosions, ones that will take down whole ships. And it’s essentially—never-ending.”

Lance bent forward, feeling ill. “I was told all of these object were harmless.”

Hunk shrugged. “They are—in our hands. But anything can be evil when wielded by evil.”

“Astute,” Pidge said, though she was equally as serious. “If only there were a way to get our loved ones back as well as these objects.”

Lance’s eyes flashed dangerously as he straightened. “Trust me,” he said. “I’m working on it.”

\---

With Pidge and Hunk at his side, Lance finished loading the shuttle and consulted his list again. It seemed that they were looking for someone named Shiro…

“Shiro?” Pidge said. “Yeah, I know that guy. He lives not far from the Garrison, but I’ve heard some things about him.”

Hunk raised an eyebrow. “What kind of things? I’ve never heard of this guy.”

“He was captured by the Galra only a few years ago.”

Lance’s head shot up. “How are we supposed to convince him to go back to them?”

Pidge shrugged, looking a little lost.

As it turned out, they didn’t have to say much to Shiro. He was a tall man, with prematurely white tufts of hair, as though he had gone through a significant amount of trauma. When Lance reached to take his hand, he noticed briefly that Shiro had a cybernetic prosthetic. His heart thrummed with guilt. How was he supposed to ask this guy to go back to the Galra willingly?

“The prince?” Shiro’s eyes flashed as Lance recounted his plan. “You’re going to trade these for the prince? It won’t work, the Galra are masters of getting their way. Trust me.”

Lance flushed with shame—he knew he was out of his depths here, but he didn’t like hearing it. “Please,” he started. “If you can just get me within reach, I can take care of myself. I just know I can.”

Shiro was silent for a while, looking out the window. They had found him in a desert shack, overshadowed by the huge cruiser that sat beside it.

“Keith did a lot for me, after I managed to escape from the Galra and found myself back here. I owe him for that.” Shiro’s biological hand pressed against his robotic one. “Alright. I’ll get you guys where you need to go.”

Lance breathed a sigh of relief. They loaded the contents of the shuttle into Shiro’s ship and before Lance knew it, they were hurdling through the galaxy on their way to save Keith.

Hurdling—incredibly fast, that is. “What did you do to my ship?” Shiro barked. Pidge blushed and pulled at her collar, looking guilty.

“I thought, before we handed anything over to the Galras, it wouldn’t hurt to test these objects out ourselves?”

_The cog_ , Lance remembered, laughing fully for the first time in what felt like a long time. He reached out and tousled Pidge’s hair.

“Thank you,” he said honestly to all of them. He was met with pleasant smiles in return.

\---

It took a day of travel—far, far less than Lance was expecting, and they were all amazed—but it still felt too long, too long to let Keith remain in Galran clutches. His heart ached at how close to rescue they were, and how many steps they still needed to take.

The first step being where exactly Lord Zarkon, Keith’s “master,” would be. Keith’s parting words rang in his head and, as they came upon the planet Kerberos, the known edge of their galaxy, Lance kept his eyes peeled. _East of the sun, west of the moon_.

“Shiro,” he started. “What direction did we travel from Earth to get here?”

“Direction?” Shiro startled, looking thoughtful. “East.”

That took care of that. Lance’s blood thrilled at the words. “And where is Kerberos’ moon?”

Pidge knocked a finger against the window; before them was a hulking mass, smaller than the planet before them.

“Go to the west of that—” Lance started, but Shiro shook his head. “Our  scanners aren’t picking anything up, there’s nothing over there.”

“Just go, please,” Lance said. Shiro nodded and began to swing the cruiser around the moon. As they emerged on the other side, they saw it—a huge base, populated with Galran warships, hidden from their scanners by the planet and its moon. Hunk let out a nervous breath, Pidge’s eyes glinted dangerously, and Shiro leveled off their ship as they prepared to board the base.

“Are we sure this is a good idea?” Hunk said. “Will they even let us on?”

“We’re traders,” Lance said. “The Galra do deals with space pirates and junkers all the time, or so I’ve been told. Once they see what we have, I know they’ll let us through.”

Their screen crackled and a loud voice boomed through the speakers. “State your business.”

Lance cleared his throat. “We are a trading ship and we are in possession of three objects you have been seeking. We wish to speak to Lord Zarkon.”

“All trading is to be done at Galran posts, not central base. Turn around or prepare for annihilation.”

Lance swallowed, working around the lump in his throat, and shook off the last of his nerves. “Trust me,” he said. “You king will want to see what we have.”

The silence was devastating, and a minute stretched on before suddenly a tractor beam shot out and began to pull them in. Lance felt fear and relief battle in his chest and, looking at his crewmates, knew they were one step closer to finding Keith and bringing him home.

\---

If there was one thing Lance hadn’t expected from this journey it was… bureaucracy. Before they could speak with King Zarkon they had to show proof of the objects to nearly every standard soldier. Finally, though, they were led to a large receiving hall where King Zarkon sat on a throne—an actual throne. Lance resisted the urge to roll his eyes, knowing that his life, Keith’s life, and the lives of his crew rested on him now.

“King Zarkon,” he began loudly, relieved when his voice only shook a little. “I have come to trade with you for the sake of Prince Keith.”

King Zarkon shifted forward, looking intrigued. Lance gulped. _This_ was a Galran. He was hefty and hulking, his feline features lacked any humanity, jagged teeth clicking when he smiled dangerously. He was dressed in heavy purple robes, royal to a fault. Lance felt dizzy with all the power in this room, like electricity crackling under the surface.

“This is quite unconventional,” the king began, his voice low and heavy. Lance found himself nodding.

“I understand that, but I am assured you have a vested interest in the objects in my possession.”

He gestured and Pidge, Hunk, and Shiro stepped forward, each carrying an item. Hunk placed the slim but still hefty satellite at his feet, Shiro cradled what could only be described as a spinning wheel looped with copper wire, and Pidge grasped the golden cog nervously.

King Zarkon’s eyes lit up hungrily. “And what do you wish to trade for these objects?”

“Prince Keith’s life.”

Zarkon laughed, an unnerving sound. “Impossible. It is mine by right.” He shifted forward again, though, as if to get a better look at the objects. The desire in his sickly yellow eyes was obvious.

“I will, however, offer you three nights—one for each object—where you will get to meet with your prince. Will that be worth it to you?”

_Three nights_ , Lance thought, his heart dropping like a stone. He had thought he had made it, was ready for triumph—this was nothing. He had lost.

But, three nights to see Keith, three nights to _plot_ with Keith… He remembered what Coran had said, about how clever a statesman Keith was. Perhaps Keith would have a new plan for Lance, something that could work for all of them.

He looked back at his crew, at the precious objects that humanity was sacrificing to the Galra. Could he really be this selfish—

He shook his head. He couldn’t think about that. He _would_ find a way to come out on top here, winning everything back that this cruel king had taken from him. He set his jaw. “I’ll take the trade.”

King Zarkon’s eyes flashed an ugly color. “Excellent. You will be allowed to remain on your ship, but your crew will be heavily guarded and you will not be allowed to leave.” Zarkon snarled cruelly. “Something tells me you won’t, though, knowing you’ll forfeit all chances of rescue then.”

Lance straightened. “You’re right. My first night?”

Zarkon gestured to a guard. “You’ll be escorted in within the hour.” A lightening flash of alien eyes. “Enjoy your time with him; it will be over before you know it.”

\---

Lance’s heart beat steadily as he was escorted down the halls. So close to Keith—he could almost feel it. They were clearly in a prison block; cell doors lined either side of the hallway. He heard no sounds coming from anywhere, though, so he could only assume they were empty.

As they reached the end of the hall the guard in front of him jangled his keys and moved to unlock the door, pushing Lance in abruptly and locking it again in a matter of seconds. Lance was suddenly plunged into darkness, taking a few bewildered steps forward. No—the lights switched on suddenly, angry and artificially red, and Lance realized that they were motion activated.

His eyes scanned the room quickly and he found him, laying on a thin mattress in the center of the room. Keith had been asleep. Lance’s heart was racing as he ran to him, he felt the smile on his face growing, and reached him, finally.

“Keith,” he said, shaking him excitedly. He ran a hand across his forehead, brushing back those beautiful locks of hair. Keith still looked human, still gorgeous, and Lance nearly burst into laughter at the joyous sight.

And yet… “Keith?” He said again, shaking him again. Keith let out a soft whimper of breath and didn’t wake up. Lance felt his breath catch in his lungs and scanned him for injuries, checked his pulse, but nothing felt out of place. He watched Keith’s breath rise and fall as it dawned on him. He felt like there was ice water in his veins.

Zarkon had tricked him—he had made sure that Keith was asleep and could not be woken during Lance’s visit.

Lance took Keith into his arms and cradled him, feeling the tears slip free for—the first time? Had he really not let himself feel the distance before? He had been so sure of everything, so sure he would get Keith back, and now that he had him in his arms it still wasn’t enough. Lance had failed.

Keith’s breathing hitched and Lance looked up hopefully, but his eyes remained closed. Lance wondered at his beauty, even in sleep—he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Keith’s temple, couldn’t help the happy sigh that flew past his lips. It really did feel good to have Keith in his arms. If only he could tell him how he felt, and have Keith receive him—

The door swung open heavily, a guard beckoned to him. “Time’s up,” he said gruffly. Lance could almost laugh. Of course Zarkon wouldn’t be fair about what constitutes a “night,” either. He looked back to Keith.

“I’ll come back,” he whispered, “I promise.”

He let the guard drag him back all the way to Shiro’s ship, told the crew immediately about Zarkon’s deception, and told them his plan for the next night.

“I think I can wake him if I scream loudly enough,” he said, confident of the idea. Pidge rolled her eyes.

“Listen, I’m sorry about what Zarkon did, but that’s the stupidest idea I’ve heard.”

Shiro and Hunk looked solemn, but they were nodding in agreement. Lance bristled.

“What else am I supposed to do?”

Hunk raised a hand, tentatively. “What about like, an energy shot? We have some in the medical kit for those who are just coming out of cryogenic sleep, or the healing pods. Maybe it would give him enough energy to wake up—”

“A shot?” Lance said. He crossed his arm and began to drum his fingers against his bicep, mind racing. A relieved flush came to his face, and he smiled at Hunk. “That… could work.”

\---

The needle was capped carefully and stowed in his sock, so there was no danger of it pricking him, but Lance still felt like he’d been pumped full of energy anyway. He studied the prison cells as the guard escorted him down the hall this time, wondering who lay beyond them. Pidge’s family, perhaps?

The guard pushed him roughly into the enclosure again and as soon as Lance heard the door lock he sprinted to Keith, who again lay soundly asleep on the rough mattress. Shiro had showed him how to inject the energy shot into a safe area, and told him that it would only take a minute to take effect. Lance uncapped the needle and found a vein in Keith’s arm, feeling the waves of excitement hitting him. He carefully injected the fluid, disposed of the shot and waited, anxiously, until he saw the softest flutter of eyelashes. Keith was looking up at him, brilliant eyes meeting Lance’s.

“Lance?” He said, and Lance let out a breathy sigh of relief, moving to embrace Keith. Before he could the prison door burst open, and several guards rushed in, pulling Lance away.

“No!” He shouted, fighting back as best he could. He looked at Keith, still immobile on the mattress, blearily fighting against sleep. Lance ran wild eyes across the room and saw them—small red lights flashing in the corners. Of course, Zarkon had been spying on him. Lance felt hot shame course through his body. He had been a fool, again.

“Keith!” He roared, even as the guards grasped his arms tightly and dragged him from the cell. “I’ll come back for you! I’ll get you out of here! Don’t fall asleep again! I’m coming back!”

Lance thought he saw eyes watching him from the dark slivers of the cell blocks they passed, as he was dragged back to the start once more.

\---

Zarkon seemed to enjoy this sick game, as he let Lance return for his last night. It didn’t matter to Lance. Another night meant another plan. He would win this time.

Pidge had come up with an electrical suppressor for him to bring in, something that would knock out the cameras. It was so much smaller than he was expecting, and he could tuck it behind his ear, like a communication device. She promised him that the second he suppressed the cameras, she would loop the feed so Zarkon would never know what he was missing. He wrapped her in a hug when she brought it to him, knowing that this would do wonders.

Before he left, he folded another energy shot into his sock, knowing that Keith might be asleep again when he came to see him.

This was his last chance to talk to Keith, to form some kind of plan that would save them all. He needed this.

The guard came to collect him and, this time, gave him a full pat down. He found the energy shot easily, and Lance tried not to let the disappointment overwhelm him. There was always screaming.

The prison cells buzzed with energy this time, and Lance wondered how many prisoners he had woken up with his shouting last night. He hoped they had all enjoyed the show.

The guard was impossibly rougher this time, pushing Lance in so hard that he fell on his knees onto the cold metal floor. The door slammed swiftly shut behind him, locking with an ominous click.

Lance went over to Keith, warring with a defeatist attitude. He settled over him, pressed the suppressor, hoping Pidge would know what to do with the footage so Zarkon wouldn’t get suspicious. This wasn’t over yet. He might not have an energy shot, but perhaps he could wake him some other way—

He ran his hand down Keith’s cool cheek, overwhelmed with love once more. He would give anything for—

He startled back suddenly. Keith’s eyes were wide open, his face the beautiful portrait of awareness. Lance’s heart raced. “Keith?”

 “So beautiful,” Keith’s lips turned upwards into a smile, so genuine it broke Lance’s heart. He raised a shaky hand to Lance’s face and Lance took it, guiding the hand to his mouth and peppering it with kisses. Keith’s laugh was breathless.

“I never thought I’d see you again,” Keith said. “The prisoners tell me I almost didn’t.”

Lance shook his head. “How are you awake?”

Keith gestured at the door, to the cell blocks that Lance passed on his way here these past few nights. Lance’s eyes flashed with understanding; he had known they were populated, but hadn’t realized Keith was in contact with them.

Keith’s eyes flashed dark. “Sleeping potion.” Lance nodded, brushing jet black curls away from Keith’s face.

“Keith,” he said, and the other man looked to him with kindness. “I’m so sorry.”

“There is nothing to forgive. I love you, Lance.”

Lance bent over Keith and pressed his lips softly to Keith’s, feeling the pressure he had sought wildly as Keith vanished from him that night. Keith’s mouth fell open beneath him and Lance groaned, loving every moment of this—if only they hadn’t been in a Galra prison cell.

He pulled back, knowing his time was short and this was his last chance. He told Keith about the trading, and Keith pressed a proud kiss to his temple and thanked him for following him to the ends of the galaxy.

“Any time,” Lance promised. “But we’re not free yet. How are we going to get out of this, Keith?”

Keith struggled to sit up farther, and as Lance helped him he said, “We’ll set up a challenge.”

“A challenge?”

Keith nodded. “Galrans are feline in more ways than one—they love to toy with their victims. I’ll set it up so that you have the chance to save me, and knowing them, they’ll mold the challenge in a way that you’ll fail. But our bond is strong, Lance. I know you won’t fail me.”

Lance’s heart pounded in his chest. “Keith—I already have. I didn’t trust you when—”

Keith shook his head. “That doesn’t matter now. We’re connected in more ways than one, by that experience alone. You can do this. For me?”

Lance locked eyes with Keith and shook his head solemnly. “For you, anything.”

“Then here’s the plan—”

\---

Lance let out a shaky sigh, releasing the last of his nerves, as he stepped foot into Zarkon’s throne room once more.

“I see you managed to meet with your prince at last,” Zarkon said, the edge of disapproval clear in his voice.

Lance put forth his chin, defiant. “I did.”

“And you wish to accept the challenge I have laid out for you? Knowing it will be your last chance to save your prince?”

Lance does not waver. “I do.”

Zarkon leans back into his throne, the glimmer of a smirk racing across his alien features. “Very well then. Your challenge is this: I will present to you six beings—one of whom is your prince—and if you can prove to me you recognize him even in a different state, I will admit the curse has no power. He will be allowed to return to you.”

Zarkon grinned darkly. “If, however, you fail to identify your prince, he will be mine for eternity, and you and your crew will perish.”

Lance knew Keith. He had to trust in Keith. He would not fail him again.

“Do you accept the challenge, even now?”

“I do.”

Zarkon laughed, inching on the border of maniacal. “Very well. Bring out the prisoners!”

A guard led out a train of six figures—all masculine, some humanoid, ranging in size, shape, and color. Keith was among them, but Lance knew better than to fall for that. There was a Galran, some kind of fish being, an avian looking creature, and others that Lance could not place for the life of him. They all had a stunted way of moving, as though bound by invisible chains. When they turned to face Lance, he saw that they had somehow been paralyzed—there was no way he’d be receiving any helpful looks from any of them.

“Begin the challenge,” Zarkon ordered. Lance stepped forward and took in the first. He steadied his mind, remembered what it was he was looking for. He could do this.

_We’re connected in more ways than one, by that experience alone_.

He looked down at his right hand, the one that had held the candle to Keith in the dark, and looked at the darker spots of his skin where the hot wax had burned him. The same wax that had burned Keith…

He leveled his eyes with their chests. Some of them had spots regardless, but Lance knew what to look for. He made it to the one that looked like Keith, wearing a loose cotton shirt. He brushed the top aside, disguising the gesture as affectionate, and saw only bare skin. He grinned to himself. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy.

Finally, he made it to the Galran, who also wore a loose fitted shirt. Something about him felt familiar, though he looked utterly different than Keith in his Galran form. He brushed aside the shirt, hoping to feel some kind of electricity when his skin made contact with the Galran’s—with Keith’s?—but there was nothing. He looked at his chest. There was nothing.

“What?” He hissed at himself. He scanned the faces of all those he’d studied. He had been so sure—wasn’t this their plan?

_Unless_ … He took a sudden step backward, whirled to Zarkon.

“He’s not here!” He shouted, anger swelling in his chest. “Prince Keith isn’t among them!”

Zarkon raised an alien brow. “Are you so sure?”

Doubt crept into Lance’s mind, but he shook it off. “I am. Keith’s not here.”

The figures in front of him flashed and disappeared. In their place stood Keith, looking a little dazed, but smiling when he met Lance’s eyes.

Lance stepped toward him. “And is this your prince?” Zarkon’s voice boomed over them.

Lance embraced Keith first, fingers brushing against the opening of his shirt, loose around his neckline. He pulled back and looked at the top of Keith’s left pec, knowing that’s where the wax had fallen—and he saw it, three raised red spots, angry and sore and _real_. This was Keith.

“This is Keith,” he said, glaring at Zarkon. “I am sure.”

Zarkon roared and slammed his fist down so hard it seemed to shake the room. Lance didn’t flinch. He had Keith in his arms, and he no longer felt afraid.

“Very well,” Zarkon’s voice was tight with defeat. He snapped his fingers and Keith, as though he’d been under a spell, let loose a soft breath. He hunched further into Lance’s embrace, and Lance held him.

“You did it,” Keith said. “You came back to me.”

Before Lance could answer, a string of explosions rocked Zarkon’s throne room. Lance held on to Keith as Shiro’s ship crashed through the walls of Zarkon's base, landing solidly before them. Zarkon shouted in surprise but could do no more as Lance led Keith safely inside and they took off.

Behind them, more explosions rang out, and Lance peered out the window as they flew away from the fallout.

The spinning wheel had done its job, and Lance knew that Zarkon had gone up in flames with it. His evil presence had been eradicated from the galaxy forever.

Lance finally let go of Keith, who rocked back a little in surprise. “Is it over?” He said.

“Yeah,” Lance said. “It’s over.”

\---

They joined the rest of the crew—and a few others—in Shiro’s cockpit. Lance explained to Keith that, although he trusted that Zarkon’s challenge would work to get Keith back, there was still concern about the other prisoners and the objects they had traded to Zarkon.  While Lance was completing Zarkon’s challenge, it would serve as a helpful distraction for Hunk, Pidge, and Shiro, who took out the guards overseeing them. While Shiro and Pidge headed for the prison block, Hunk managed to track down the objects, which Zarkon had foolishly left all in one place. He’d strung up the spinning wheel to detonate, and as soon as he had word that Shiro and Pidge had the prisoners in the ship—and heard Zarkon’s roar of defeat—he’d pulled the trigger.

Lance recounted this, watching happily as Pidge was reunited with her brother and father, and the other prisoners shared relieved embraces, finally free of Zarkon's rule.

Keith looked a little shocked that they’d managed to pull off something like that, and said as much to Lance. Lance chuckled.

“That’s what you get for not giving clearer instructions.”

Keith’s concern wavered into a grin, and he let out a laugh. It was the most gorgeous sound Lance had ever heard. Despite all the people packed around them, he surged forward and kissed Keith again, reveling in the feeling. Keith’s arms snaked around him and Lance marveled at how good it felt to be held.

“I did it, didn’t I?” He said, tightening his grip on Keith.

“You did.”

“Do I—” Lance hesitated. “I suppose now that you’ll go back to ruling, will you still need someone by your side?”

Keith pulled back and bit his lip, face bright red. “Of course. I need someone strong and clever to stay with me, a partner—would you be up for the job?”

Lance hummed thoughtfully. “How much does it pay?”

Keith rolled his eyes and scoffed, but the affection on his face betrayed him. Lance put his fingers to Keith’s chin and turned Keith’s face to him, and they both grew serious.

“Hey,” he said. “I wouldn’t trade that chance, for gold or money. I want to be at your side, always.”

Keith’s eyes grew warm, and he closed the distance between them once more. As Lance fell apart under his lips, he finally felt at peace.

_And they flew away as far as they could from the castle that lay east of the sun and west of the moon._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The princess of the tale must collect three items to trade for three nights with the prince: a golden apple, a golden comb, and a golden spinning wheel. She then finds the four winds, of which the North Wind takes her to the castle because it had been there once before. Shiro represents the North Wind in this tale, and Allura, Pidge, and Hunk the possessors of the items. 
> 
> The items are a golden cog instead of a golden apple, a satellite (that "combs" for information) instead of the golden comb, and some sort of explosion device shaped like a spinning wheel because I am not that good with translations. They also represent powerful devices that Zarkon would like to have, so that they can represent Voltron in some ways as well. 
> 
> Of course, that means Pidge, Hunk, and Shiro (as well as Lance and Keith to some respect) can use these items to take down Zarkon. In the fairy tale, the trolls burst into flames when they are defeated in the challenge, which is very helpful in the prince and princess's escape. I know it seems silly in this story, but it's an easy plot device so I wanted to do the same.
> 
> The challenge in the original fairy tale is to wash the wax out of the prince's shirt, because trolls cannot wash clothing. This didn't seem like something that a) would appeal to Zarkon as a challenge and b) something that would stop him. I liked the lineup challenge because it really drives home the point about appearance and true love. I know something like it has been done before, but for the life of me, I can't remember where! If anyone recognizes the trope I'd love if you could share it with me. 
> 
> Finally, as for the three nights, the princess awakens the other prisoners with her crying on the second night and that is how they guide the prince to avoid taking the sleeping potion. I wanted Lance to have a slight victory, hence the energy shot and taking out the cameras. I'm well aware these are pretty exaggerated and silly, but it is a fairy tale! Even when it's set in space.
> 
> I really do hope you enjoyed the fic despite the slight deviations from the original tale. I appreciate all of your comments and all of you who have taken the time to read this fic!


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